Hear You Me
by Mrs-N-Uzumaki
Summary: At first, Hank didn't think much of it, but as more time went by, he began to worry a little. Then a lot. But that worry increased tenfold when his concerns became a reality.
1. Chapter 1

Originally called "Independence Day" I decided to stick with "Hear You Me" when I remembered that title is closely associated with the movie. The story is nothing about aliens, don't worry. The title was supposed to be associated with the day that Evan-

Wait. That gives away the whole thing. You're going to have to read to find out ;)

X

_Thoughts_

"Speeches"

"_Whispers_"

xXx – Scene Change

Summary: At first, Hank didn't think much of it, but as more time went by, he began to worry a little. Then a lot. But that worry increased tenfold when his concerns became a reality.

Disclaimer: Let's just say the actors would be glad I don't.

* * *

**Hear You Me**

* * *

"I'm heading out," Evan yells within the vicinity of Hank, who is just stepping out of the shower, cleansing himself from the busyness of the day.

Evan just finished cooking and dinner is ready. He places a lid on the steaming food and reaches for his keys, before heading towards his phone lying in the counter when the sound of footsteps grabs his attention.

Hank steps down the last few steps of stairs, towel encircling the nape of his neck. "Where to?" he asks casually.

"Just gonna run a little errand," Evan replies, heading back to the kitchen to turn off the cooker.

"Should I wait up?" Henry asks, smelling the delightful scent of his brother's cooking.

"Uh," Evan looks at his watch while heading to the door. "Ye…yeah. I'll only be a couple of minutes."

Hank nods, even though his appetite disagrees. "Alright."

xXx

Ten minutes pass with the expansive spread of food sitting on the table. The hot pot of Evan's latest recipe is on the centre of the table and the plates sit opposite each other, alongside the utensils. Hank huffs in annoyance and takes a seat, staring at the clock for the fifth time in the past few minutes.

Henry reaches for his phone and dials his brother's number. Two seconds later, ringing fills the formerly silent guesthouse. Hank's head follows the direction of the sound and finds that it's coming from Evan's phone, which has been left on the counter. He inwardly groans and disconnects the call.

_A couple of minutes, my ass_, Hank thinks grumpily. He isn't usually a grouch when hungry, but today he hasn't had the chance to eat anything since breakfast. And he's been looking forward to this meal all day.

Twenty more minutes goes by when Hank finally decides to give up waiting. The food's almost too cold to eat. He makes a grab for a wooden spoon and digs into a pile of some rice.

Evan doesn't turn up during the meal.

Once Hank's stomach is satisfied, he puts his plates into the sink and places the leftovers in the fridge; deciding to head to bed a few minutes later.

xXx

When Hank wakes the next morning, he walks past Evan's room to realise the bed is empty. Thinking his brother is already up and about, Hank makes his way downstairs to greet him. The guesthouse remains silent, and Evan's nowhere to be seen.

"Evan?" Hank calls out. "Ev?" No response followed. The elder Lawson turns his head to notice his brother's phone still lying on the counter and the minivan's keys missing. "Weird," he thinks out loud.

Divya walks through the door. "Good morning, Hank," she says with a smile.

Hank partially turns his head and half-heartedly replies, "'Morning, Divya."

Still smiling, the physician assistant furrows her eyebrows in amusement. "Everything okay?"

"Uh…yeah. I just…" He then fully turns to her. "Have you seen Evan?"

"When have I _not_ seen him? I can't get rid of the guy." Then she mumbles, "Sticks by me like glue."

Hank chuckles slightly. "I meant last night, or this morning." She shakes her head.

Henry then nods. Evan'll probably turn up at some point today. "Okay, let's go."

xXx

At the end of the day, Hank returns to find that the guesthouse remains empty, and it seems to have remained empty throughout the day. Hank then makes a beeline for the fridge and notices that not a single inch of food or drink has been moved since the previous night.

"Evan?" he calls out afterwards, running up the stairs towards his brother's room, which also lingers silently. Walking back down the stairs, Hank pulls out his phone from his pocket and dials a number. The other line picked up after a few seconds. "Hey, Paige…yeah, I'm fine over here…you mean he's not with you?" Henry waited a few seconds. "Have you heard from him since last night?" A few more seconds of silence flew by. "Oh…No, no, I'm sure everything's fine. I was just calling to check up. Okay, bye."

He hangs up and begins to play with his phone for a full minute before deciding to dial another number. "Hey, dad…yeah I'm good." He listens to the other end of the conversation. "Yeah, hey, listen, did Evan, by any chance, stop by from last night up until now? No? Oh, okay…no, everything's okay. Just let me know if you hear something from him. No, I'm sure everything's okay, dad, don't worry. I'll talk later." He disconnects the call and runs a hand through his curly locks.

Telling his father not to worry doesn't stop him from worrying. All he knows was that Evan had to run for an errand, and hasn't returned since without a single word or note anywhere. It's not like Evan to do this, and it certainly isn't him to forget his phone and not come back for it, not when he's serious about running a business. He's practically married to that thing; the business AND the phone.

Hank sighs and heads outside towards his car. That's when one of Boris' BMWs made their way into the vicinity. It came to a stop beside Hank and the tinted window was pulled down. Boris temporarily moves his phone from his ear to his chest.

"'Evening, Hank."

"Hey, Boris. Can I ask you a question?" The German Duke puts his phone back next to his ear. The silence from his landlord signals Hank to continue. "Have you seen Evan somewhere between last night and now?"

Boris looks up at his doctor, slightly anchoring the device in his ear away from his mouth, and distractedly responds, "Should I have?"

Hank shrugs. "I don't know. I can't seem to find him anywhere."

Boris responds to the person on the phone in another language and moves the device towards his chest. "Is it something I should concern myself with?" the Duke genuinely asks.

"Uh, no, no. Just…let me know if you hear anything." Henry smiles.

Boris nods and shifts his attention back to his phone. The tinted window moves back up and the car heads further into the driveway, leaving a slightly more worried Hank.

xXx

Henry pulls his Saab into an empty parking space outside Heritage Hospital. When he makes his way in the building to find his girlfriend, Jill is discussing business matters with a nurse at the reception desk.

Normally, he would not disturb her when she's in the middle of work. Normally, he would wait. But today isn't exactly a normal day.

Hank walks over to her. "Jill?"

The hospital administrator turns to him in surprise. "Hank?"

"Hey, can I talk to you for a quick second?"

Jill raises her eyebrows. "Sure." She pulls him away from the desk. "What's up?"

"Have you seen Evan?"

"Evan?" Jill shakes her head and forms an "I don't think so" gesture on her lips. "No. Not since yesterday morning."

"Are you sure?"

She chuckles slightly. "I'm sure." She sees the concerned expression on her boyfriend's face. "What's going on?"

"I can't find him anywhere."

"Did you try calling him?"

"He left his phone back at the guesthouse."

"When did you last-"

"Last night. Hasn't been back since," he answers quickly, expecting the question.

Jill slowly nods and begins to understand the doctor's concern. "I'm sure he'll turn up, Hank. Don't worry."

Hank says nothing for a few seconds. "Do you mind if I ask the nurse," he gestures towards the reception. "Y'know, in case he was admitted."

"You would've been the first to know if he was," Jill replies with certainty.

"Can I ask anyway?" he quickly replies.

Jill's lips form a straight line. "Go right ahead."

And she's right. Evan hasn't been admitted. There were no signs of an Evan R. Lawson anywhere in the hospital's computer database. Hank isn't sure whether to be relieved or even more worried.

With a comforting shoulder gesture and a sure word from Jill about his brother returning, Hank walks back out the door and heads back home, in hopes of seeing Evan there.

xXx

"Have you seen this guy?" Hank says to almost every shop owner in The Hamptons, using a recent picture taken from a formal party, whereby Evan had his arm wrapped around him with a drink in his free hand, while Hank held a cocktail drink of his own, both wearing suits and smiling into the camera. He had folded the photograph in half to make it easier for people to focus on only Evan in the picture. Only, it didn't help. Every person he had asked either told him "Sorry, I haven't." or just shrugged a simple no.

When Hank woke up that morning, Evan was still nowhere to be found. After hopefully requesting Divya to cover for him for the day, he tried calling everyone Evan would have most likely been in contact with. But not only was it of no help, he opened a door of worry for each of them too. Only Hank realises he's no longer just worrying - now he's panicking.

His will (or dedication, either one) is slowly starting to crumble. As he goes to each shop, each coffeehouse, random bar, clothing shop on the corner, whatever, he starts to feel a little...scared. He supposes he hadn't allowed himself to feel that emotion earlier because emotion is such a foreign object, honestly. Doctors cannot afford to be scared. But here he is, clutching onto a photo of his brother and pleading for answers. He needs to make sure, before he does this, before he dives full force into this, that finding Evan on his own will not be possible. Fear is gnawing at his senses...but he has yet to allow himself to feel anything at all.

This almost feels like déjà vu. Only, the first time, Evan had left a note stating he was going to meet up with their father. It wasn't hard to track him down with that memo. It's amazing how such a small note on the fridge, or next to his Gladstone bag, could make such a big difference in finding somebody and/or calming the nerves of worry, which Hank is in desperate need as of now.

Hank closes his eyes and breathes deeply to calm his racing heart. Everything's okay. He's sure of it. Evan most likely drove a little far and ran out of gas. Yeah. It's probably that simple. Hank's probably worrying about nothing.

Evan probably stopped by a bar and drank so much that they took his keys. And he probably didn't have enough cash for a taxi because he'd spent it all on the alcohol. Although, why exactly he would just randomly pop into a bar is beyond him. Maybe something is going on with Evan, after all? Maybe he should have looked closer? Maybe Evan's wandering some country back road right now, completely lost and starving. Maybe he's passed out in a ditch somewhere. Maybe he was so wasted that he bumped into something and got a concussion and then just stopped, right there and for all Hank knows he's just bleeding and bleeding and Hank's just standing there holding a photo of him, completely unaware.

Henry shakes his head vigorously. He's being ridiculous, completely and utterly irrational. Evan was not a little kid anymore- IS not a kid anymore, despite his demeanour anyway. He's a fully grown adult, somewhat responsible, who is finding a way to get back right now because he knows how his older brother worries.

Hank shakes away every last thought of his endless list of scenarios and turns on the ignition of his car. It's getting late. Maybe he should call it a night. Evan may pop up the next morning anyway.

At least he hopes.

xXx

By the third day, Hank can no longer control his panic. The HankMed team, minus one member, had turned up that morning while the doctor had once again called every person Evan may have contacted, frantically conversing with Paige, his father, Miss Newberg, even Tucker and Libby. The latter three had sympathetically offered to keep a lookout for the younger Lawson in hopes of calming Hank's nerves. Paige and Eddie R., alarmed, decided they would make a return to The Hamptons after hearing the panic in Hank's voice.

Now standing are Hank, Divya and Jill, surrounding the kitchen table, discussing the current matter at hand.

"So he says he's going to run an errand?" Divya speaks. "Do you know what he meant by that?"

"It could've meant anything. He might've gone to the local shops for all I know," Hank replies.

"And he doesn't come back for his phone," Jill fills in. She turns to the doctor. "Is there anywhere you think he might've gone? Anywhere at all?"

Hank shakes his head. "I…maybe the hotel suite I found him in last time?"

"Okay," Divya nods. "Why don't you go and check there."

Hank nods in agreement. "Alright. You okay to cover for me again?" Divya smiles. "I'm really sorry about this."

"That's okay. You've got more important matters to deal with," the PA responds.

"And you will call me if an emergency-"

"Of course."

A small smile shaped Hank's features, only for it to disappear a split second later. He takes off without a further word.

xXx

By the time he turns, with no such luck on finding Evan anywhere in that hotel, his father has already made his way. Hank walks into the dining area, whereby the room was filled with HankMed members, again, minus one member, and greets his unusually non-smiling father.

"Hank! There you are," Eddie starts when his elder son makes an entrance. "I was beginning to think you went missing too!"

"Hi, dad." Hank sort of smiles, his face beginning to wear the exhaustion from the search.

"Any luck?" Divya asks, hopeful.

Hank shakes his head. "If I did, he would've been standing here with me."

Divya's expression looks apologetic as she gently places a hand on Hank's arm, hoping to reassure him, but Hank doesn't seem to even register her touch.

It's as if Hank isn't even registering that he is not alone as he says, "I don't know what to do anymore." It crushes him to physically say the words aloud. He had never wanted to say the words again, not after his mother's death - a time in his life where he was sure he had never felt more useless.

When Hank looks up again, he's not staring at Evan - just the concerned faces of his father and Divya.

"Son..." Eddie R. says gently. "I really think that it's time we involve the police." He hates to see his son look this way, all weary and dejected and resigned in a way that has nothing to do with giving up. He gently eases himself in front of Divya, who steps away politely and says softly, "I want to know he's okay, too...but we can't do this on our own."

Hank clenches his jaw, wants to argue back - but he can't. What information does he have to back up an argument? What facts does he have? What conclusions can he draw? He has no idea, none at all. Evan is as fragile as a thought, a dream, and all he has are empty leads and a twist in his stomach. His dad is right. He was just hoping he wouldn't have to launch into a whole new thought process.

Eddie R. grips his son's arm, as if keeping him tethered to the kitchen floor. "Hank?" he says gently.

Hank's head snaps up. "Yeah," he says thickly, the seriousness of the situation finally tumbling onto him like a landslide.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

Annnnd that's the end of this chapter. The next chapter would be uploaded quicker if you guys can hit my 10 reviews mark (or more, I feed off of reviews!). Otherwise, prepare for a long wait (but not like a six month wait...or is it?).

For those who are wondering about my previous RP fics, I'm sure I'll get back to them...once I break through the wall.

As for this story, it took me quite some time to consider, and reconsider, Hank's reaction to all this. I try to keep it dynamically close to characterisation as much as I can, but it's hard when Hank is barely showing any concern over Evan in the show anymore.

What do you guys think? Should there be something I should change? Or add? I really need honest (brutally honest if needed be) feedback.

Mrs-N-Uzumaki xx


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, everyone! I cannot BELIEVE people actually left me reviews! I haven't seen this many in one chapter for a long time.

So, to **RAJ, AMANA, ****Rosiek79****, ****MyChem2019****, ****forshizzle930****, NAGARO **and **xSommerRegen****,** **AfterMidnight8, ilovecrimedramas**, as promised, next chappy is up. I almost forgot to upload with all the havoc running in my life!

**I would also like to thank my wonderfully talented editor MEGALEGU who also happens to write amazing Royal Pains stories. **

Oh, one more thing, I would just like to say to the **troller **who left that nasty review that ruined my morning:

Good to know you seem to find my story interesting. However, a lot of hard work goes into these chapters, A LOT. It may not seem like it to you because, clearly, you're implying you have more writing skills than I do, since you think I torture readers for kicks and I write anything willy-nilly without considering the amount of detailed input I add to the story. I've come across lot of assholes who would just read and take off and only come back for updates without leaving me anything, not even criticism. As a writer, I become very bothered by this because it feels like the story isn't good enough, and it doesn't encourage me OR help me improve. I also didn't say anywhere that I wouldn't upload at all, unless people really don't enjoy it, in which case I'd just write for myself and won't bother people by uploading it; I said I'd upload it QUICKER, stating that I'm encouraged to upload quicker if I get reviews telling me it's worth something. And what was in the bracket was clearly meant as a joke, that only you didn't seem to get a grasp of.

So before you start criticising about the way I update, how about you take a second to think about why I do it in the first place. Oh, and the next time you leave me a review, try to not coward out by becoming anonymous. JUST SAYING.

X

_Thoughts_

"Speeches"

"_Whispers_"

xXx – Scene Change

Summary: At first, Hank didn't think much of it, but as more time went by, he began to worry a little. Then a lot. But that worry increased tenfold when his concerns became a reality.

Disclaimer: If I did, this season would've turn out a lot differently.

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

When the police arrive, the air is subdued. It's almost like the calm after the storm, minus the actual storm. Jill and Divya sit close, quietly conversing amongst each other. Hank is just standing off to the side, clutching the photograph of Evan he'd carried around with him in the town, his father off to the side, talking in a low voice to one of the officers. He shoots glances at Hank every few moments and then warily gestures his son towards them. He needs him to show the officer the photograph but he's almost afraid to ask. Despite how strong his elder son seems to be appearing, Hank is trying hard to hold it together. But if Eddie wants his other son back...if he wants Hank to return to a fraction of himself again...he'll do this.

"Hank?" Henry blinks away his clouded thinking and looks up to the sound of his father's soft tone. "The police would like to have a few words with you."

The doctor nods, the room suddenly being blanketed in silence. It's as if a spotlight has suddenly shone down on Hank, his father and the policemen, rendering Jill and Divya motionless, a faded background on the stage.

"So when exactly did you start to notice your brother had gone missing?" one of the cops bluntly asks, pen poised above the lined pages of his notebook.

Hank tries not to react, tries not to recoil at the harsh wording of the policemen, as if the sharp words were reprimands. "After the first day. Usually he would leave a note, or a message," he sighs, "if he was heading off somewhere for a while."

"But he hasn't contacted you or anyone for the past three days?"

Hank nods, lips forming a straight line.

"Was he acting peculiar that night? Did you notice anything off about your brother?"

Hank shakes his head. "No. He was perfectly…Evan."

"Then he leaves his phone here…" the cop's partner, a much younger man, confirms the rest of the story. "And takes off to run an errand with his car."

The older cop stabs a full stop at his notepad. "Have you got a record of information of your brother's car? A licence plate perhaps?"

"Uh, yeah. Let me just…" Hank searches frantically through drawer to drawer, pushing through everyone's way. He then makes a hasty turn towards the seat of an armchair. Digging his hand under the seat, Hank pulls out Evan's minivan documents. He momentarily smiles at his brother's ways, smiles at his knowing of his brother's ways. But the momentary setback vanishes as quickly as it had begun. Hank stands up to deliver the thin, plastic folder.

"Thank you. We'll have this returned once we file the information." The elder cop flips through the folder and closes it. "Have you got a recent picture of…?"

"Oh, yeah." Hank reaches for his back pocket and lifts the picture he's been clutching all day, his fingerprints marking crescent-shaped indentations.

"Can we take this?" they requested.

It's a simple question. But Henry hesitates for a moment because it's the most recent thing he's got of his brother, a still of a happy moment. What if there were no more? What if this photo is the last tangible proof of his brother?

"Uh," Hank clutches onto the photo and forces his solid grip to let it go, land into the waiting palm of the police offer. "Yeah."

"We'll see what we can do, Mr Lawson," the younger policeman smiles, and then turns to his partner as he adds, "And we'll get back to you as soon as we find something," waiting for a nod of his acknowledgement, as if wondering whether it was the right thing to say to a civilian.

Hank figures he's a rookie, which doesn't exactly make him comfortable or convince him that they'll do everything they can. He needs professionals here, he doesn't need inexperienced newbies. He needs full-force, no holds barred, effort from every available source.

But what he does instead, instead of reacting the way he wants, he replies, "Thank you." And before he can help himself, "And...call me Hank."

xXx

After the police officers leave, Hank reaches into a draw and pulls out a stack of take-out menus that he's kept hidden there ever since Evan started cooking again (but keeps as a failsafe on nights his brother's too tired to cook). He slaps them onto the counter with more force than necessary and plasters the biggest smile he can afford onto his face. "So...who wants to eat?" he asks, even though his stomach is already protesting at the thought of handling Panda Express along with the roiling that came with his brother's prominent absence.

"We've got burgers...Mexican...anyone want Italian?" Hank shifts through the colourful stack, avoiding the collective gaze of everyone.

No one says anything. "No Italian?" Hank fills the silence, looking up with raised eyebrows.

"Um," Jill looks over at Divya, as if deciphering from the PA's expression on what way to go with the conversation. To the side, Eddie R. looks like he wants to say something but keeps opening and closing his mouth in a silent protest.

"Pizza would be good!" Divya blurts and Jill looks surprised at her outburst.

"Yeah, pizza," Jill echoes. She glances over at Eddie and he just shifts his position again.

"Pizza," Hank says, softly to himself and then nods, reaching for the green and white laminated menu before locating the menu. He's already dialled the number, keeping the phone up to his ear by his shoulder and asks, "Cheese? Pepperoni?"

"Uh...both?" Jill says-asks.

Forty-five minutes later, Jill, Divya, Eddie and Hank are all crowded on the table outside, silently eating and passing the cardboard boxes back and forth amongst themselves. Divya keeps picking at the crust on her slice, Jill eats one slice and then another in record time and Eddie just looks down at the lone slice of pepperoni on his plastic plate and makes no move to eat it. Hank sits at the end cap, tearing a loose strand of cheese from his slice and then looks up at the heavy sigh of his father.

"Hank..." he says. "Could we talk in the other room for a moment?"

Jill and Divya both look up, a similar expression of guilt flickering between them.

Hank hesitates, staring down at the food he knows he won't be able to stomach anyway. "Sure," he pushes his chair back and joins his father in the kitchen.

Once they're out of earshot, Eddie seems to give his son a complete once-over, scanning him from head to toe. "Are you...are you okay?" he asks, wincing slightly at the phrasing of his question.

Hank can't help but feel his mouth form into a frown. "I...yeah...dad...I mean...no...I'm not FINE, but I am..." he sighs heavily. "I'm trying." There is no possible way he can explain to his father that this is how he's chosen to cope. That he's shifted gears and thrown himself into a role he knows all too well - the caretaker, the saviour. The doctor.

"I know, son," Eddie says gently. "I just...I just don't want anything to happen to you, too."

"What makes you think something had happened to Evan?" Hank answers quickly.

Eddie stares back, mouth agape. "I didn't…"His eyes flicker for the briefest moment and Hank feels a suspicious tug inside him at the sheer vulnerability written on his father's face.

"Dad, listen to me. Nothing's going to happen," Hank insists, noticing helplessly the way his voice hitches. "To me _or_ to Evan."

Eddie briefly hesitates before nodding. "Okay...okay. I just needed to hear that." He claps a supportive hand on Hank's shoulder but it turns into a half-hug and then a complete embrace as Hank accepts his father's welcoming hold.

"Come on, before Jill eats all the cheese slices," Hank says, and it's not convincing, not really, but it gives Eddie a half-smile, a small chuckle and they return back outside.

xXx

By the next morning, Paige had already arrived. Hank wakes up to yet another silent guesthouse, which he has yet to get used to (hopefully wouldn't have to), and approaches a waiting, concerned etched face; and not just a face, but his brother's fiancé. Hank knew immediately this was going to be a long morning.

"And you're sure he says just that?" Paige says, questioning every detail of the report.

Hank sighs. "Yes, Paige," he reassures, just as he's been reassuring everyone, including the police, what had happened the night Evan disappeared.

"And he left exactly twenty hundred hours, telling you he would be back in a few minutes," she confirms.

Hank blinks, momentarily calculating the number in his head. "Yeah."

Paige softly taps the kitchen counter, thinking of the next response. "What about his car? Did you ask around about that?"

Henry almost immediately responds, but holds himself at the last minute, realising…he hasn't. "No…I didn't…"

"And while you do that, I'm going to use every resource my family has to help." Like how Hank switches to doctor mode, Paige switches to military mode. "I'll also go start making the posters."

Hank's heart suddenly drops. His brother has just become a face on a milk carton.

Paige doesn't seem to notice Henry's change in demeanour and stands from the kitchen counter. She then turns to him, squinting in thought. "Do you…have that picture? The one at the formal party?"

Hank's ears perk up. "The one you took?"

"Yeah."

He mentally kicks himself. "I gave it to the police."

"No worries. I think I still have it in my camera somewhere," she affirms, then looks at her soon-to-be brother-in-law's expression. "Don't worry, Hank, we'll find him."

Hank nods. Maybe if he keeps hearing it, he might just begin to believe it.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

And zat iz it, my friends! I hope you enjoyed it to a certain degree, otherwise please leave me a review telling me what I should do, or what I should not. I want to write a story worthy for my readers. I have a plan for this story but I haven't exactly got the detail to fill in the gaps. But I'll work doubly hard for you all.

Again, thank you to **MEGALEGU** for helping me accomplish writing this story! You're my inspiration!

Lets see if you can hit 22 reviews ;)

Mrs-N-Uzumaki xx


	3. Chapter 3

I'M SO HAPPY! The amazing amount of reviews I've been getting! So encouraging! You people are the best readers anyone could hope for!

Let me take the time to apologise about the delay. This chapter took a lot longer to develop. Again, I wanna thank my talented editor for helping me through it -huggles-

Hope you enjoy :)

**AMANA** – I agree, show's getting boring. I've had it. I literally sit there waiting for JUST whump now. I don't care about anything else that happens in the show!

Oh, to the dear, spineless flamer who left me that, uh, lovely review – yeah, WRONG FANDOM. But since I don't respond well to jerks who like to discourage developing writers: My policy - if you read and enjoy, you write a review. I'm sure you're a genuis writer who likes to look down on other's people writing, but if you're going to criticise my approach to reviews, do it civilly, asshole, or don't do it at all.

X

_Thoughts_

"Speeches"

"_Whispers/Telephone Conversations_"

xXx – Scene Change

Disclaimer: Don't tempt me. At this point I'd steal it to save it.

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

_**Three weeks later…**_

The wind pulls it from its home, plucks it from beneath the staple and carries it through, stringing it along in an almost graceful movement. It slows and stills, dipping close to the ground but never actually touching - its choreography almost lazy in its travel. Finally, it does one final, slowed spin before fluttering down, face-up, displaying an enlarged photo of one Evan Lawson, stark, black letters above him declaring 'MISSING'.

_**Elsewhere in a cloudy afternoon…**_

It's not like Hank's room has reached Charles Manson proportions.

But Hank's room has totally reached Charles Manson proportions.

The shades are drawn, cloaking the room in darkness, the only things on the walls are random words scrawled in Sharpie that never made it to paper, just scribbled hastily against the beige paintjob. "Evan", "Cell phone left behind", "Hospitals" and then something ridiculous that Jill can't even decipher, but it looks like it has something to do with Italian food and "Pepsi".

She can't help the look of horror that twists itself onto her expression as she glances at the gigantic map of New York that spans an entire wall. There are random tacks in the obvious locations, like Brooklyn and The Hamptons, Long Island and even a few random smatterings of cities, like Buffalo and Albany…and a small area circled with the name Fulton, but that was crossed out, along with a few others. Jill figured they were a dead end. Colourful strings encircle these cities, a path going from Brooklyn to The Hamptons and then one in a red string spanning out to three different cities, ones foreign to her. Jill can't figure out why these cities are significant, only that there are random drawings and abbreviations scrawled across the key.

"Searched Plattsburgh - no sightings" is somewhere next to a white string and Jill's hand moves to her mouth to stifle the gasp.

She turns around and looks at the bed, where a pile of books and other maps are, all proclaiming on the glossy covers their expansive knowledge of the geography of New York. There is even a tall, thin book that spans out and turns into a map of the United States. Adjacent to the bed is a nightstand, its surface covered in Red Bull cans and chip bags and a photo frame lying on its face. At further examination, Jill realises it's a candid shot of a young Hank and Evan, showing what looks like cake at one another's faces.

She realises suddenly why this photo of a smiling, happy pair of brothers is such an outcast in a room like this. It's too bright, too cheery, oozing of a time where there could be words like 'happy' and 'carefree'.

Carefully, she places it back down, about to give in to her curiosity and investigate the closet but stops, whirling around at a sudden noise.

"Hank?" she asks faintly. "What are you doing here?"

The doctor's mouth is set in a hard line, arms crossed and eyes blazing with just barely-contained anger. "Well, it's MY room..."

"Right," Jill says slowly, exhaling a shaky breath. "Well...I was...you..." she drops her hands, defeated. "Want to go get some lunch?"

Hank doesn't say anything, just stands there silent for a few long moments. Finally, he uncrosses his arms, gestures in an almost sarcastic manner for her to go ahead.

Jill crosses the threshold of the bedroom, not missing the way Hank's eyes sweep protectively over every article in the room before gently closing the door behind them.

xXx

Hank stares passively at the missing flyer of his brother, the enlarged photo of Evan plastered across the front. There's his name, age, height, weight and defining characteristics, all laid out in black and white, a format so easy Hank finds it almost juvenile that his brother can be summed up so simply.

The breeze around him is chilling but not enough to warrant a jacket and he simply just stares at the flyer stuck to a pole across their table, a copy of a hundred others he's plastered around town. There's a whole row of them to his left, decorating the wall of a coffee shop and it's not like he NEEDS this photo of his brother, this exact one - he sees his brother every day, plastered across storefronts and hanging up in grocery shops and peeking out from under stacks of newspapers at diners - but there's something about the way it landed so closely to him, so destined.

Hank's so soaked into his thoughts he almost forgets he's not alone. Not that it makes much of a difference. Lunches have been very quiet between him and Jill…and everyone else. What would he talk about anyway? What's the use?

Besides, his brother was always the conversation starter.

"So, I'll be leaving soon," Jill attempts to make a start, fidgeting with the cup of coffee in her hands.

Hank's train of thought scatters, looking up from the cup of coffee in his hands. "Hm?"

"To...Africa."

The doctor's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "I thought...you were going to Uruguay?"

"I was. But I was offered an even bigger role," Jill almost smiles, but doesn't. Leaving when Hank is right in the middle of this crisis doesn't feel right - it feels almost unfair to be riding on such a wave of success while Hank gets knocked down by the force. Jill is gliding through the waves, calmly, steadily, manoeuvring with grace. And Hank's just...drowning. Jill doesn't want to leave him out there without something to keep afloat - a life-jacket of sort. But where would she begin to find one?

Hank nods slowly. "Good for you." He isn't sure how to react. He really is happy for her, but with everything else going on, he can't bring himself to find this happiness right now, can't seem to visibly muster up any sort of emotions even relating to joy. He tries his best to smile, but it's like his face has frozen into a grimace.

They fall back into the grips of the previous silence.

Once Hank's short-lived lunch is over, he waves a goodbye to Jill and continues with his own investigation.

After the week of Evan going missing, the case is declared cold, lowering its priority. Hank, needless to say, becomes furious. The police have given up, just like that; even though he's reassured they'll still be working on it. Detective Damien Helms is assigned to the case just after two days, specialising in this particular area. He tracks down the last witness who has been in contact with Evan, a small time shop owner who sold a few boxes of Fruity Puffs to Evan before he disappeared into the night. The shop owner even has a security tape of that night. Despite the fact it was the last time anyone had seen the young Lawson man, nothing suspicious or out of the ordinary shows up in the footage.

Helms searches for clues surrounding the area of the shop until he can recite every ounce of concrete surrounding the vicinity. And it still doesn't change the fact that there were no clues left behind, that the victim had disappeared without a trace.

After which Hank decides to take matters into his own hands; he can't just stand by and wait for a miracle. Divya and Jill help by covering his patients, even Paige took a role as HankMed's Office Manager, and Hank turns up for the emergencies (though keeping his focus always inclined more towards finding his brother than anything else). But that doesn't mean business falls to the wayside - there are still sick people, the world doesn't stop turning for one missing man (although it can for one distraught doctor). In fact, one of the only things keeping him engaged in the business at all is the fact that he doesn't want Evan returning to a financially failing business...again. And he WILL return, that much Hank is certain of.

It's only a matter of time.

xXx

Detective Helms yawns as he passes through a parade of police officers, forensics and medics. It's 5:30 in the morning when he receives the phone call about a car that had been found at the bottom of a river by a teenage couple skinny dipping (although so early in the morning when the water is below zero degrees is beyond the detective). Helms asks his partner to run the licence plate soon after, to only then confirm his assumption about the owner of that car.

It's 6 AM when Hank's phone shakes him awake. Hank lifts his head and peels off a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He then remembers falling asleep on the kitchen counter again after another night of searching through a pile of information he had been collecting, in regards to the whereabouts of his missing little brother. Hank pulls out his phone from underneath the mess.

"Hello?" he answers groggily, wiping the fatigue from his face.

"_Hank?_"

Henry's eyes widens at the familiar sound of the voice. "Detective Helms?"

"_I'm sorry to wake you, but this is going to interest you_."

Oh God. This is it, the phone call he's been dreading. Evan is dead. He's sure of it by the sound of the detective's voice.

Hank's heart begins to race. He closes his eyes and opens them again, sighing heavily to try and calm his pounding heart. "What happened?"

xXx

"The teens found the car at approximately 5:10 in the morning…" Helms explains to Hank as they watch a large piece of machinery pull the heavy vehicle above the quiet waters, so far only a small portion of the ceiling surfacing. "…and it was confirmed that this minivan is registered to an Evan R. Lawson."

Henry tries to delay the inevitable question, but it overcomes him in the end. "…And…the, uh…was Evan…?" he trails off.

Helms bluntly replies, "There was no one inside."

The cool air sends chills to Hank's spine. He isn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned. Maybe he's both; relieved his brother hasn't drowned (or so he hopes) and concerned because he's still missing.

"That's...that's good," Hank says faintly, settling for relief.

Helms tries to hide his concern. "It could be good or bad. Fact is we don't know what went down here."

Damn it. He has been pushing down the doubt that's been trying to edge its way through the cracks. The last thing Hank needs is more of it weaving its way through.

"But, clearly, Evan wasn't in that car," Hank argues. "So…he probably escaped."

"Which begs the question, why is his car at the bottom of a river in the first place?" he asks, more so to himself as he slides back the fringe that keeps coming back to sweep his face.

Hank doesn't reply, silently registering the question in his mind. His focus turns when the minivan was fully pulled out from the fairly polluted waters. When the car is carefully placed onto the forest grounds, Hank and Helms dart towards it.

Hank's heart skips a beat. The car is a wreck; windows are shattered, the front is completely smashed, the doors are dented.

His lips part, wanting to say something but can't find the energy or the courage to produce. Just what had happened to Evan?

"Oh my God…" Hank finds himself uttering without even realising.

xXx

By Helms' theory, based on the information he just collected, Evan had gotten into an accident, lost control of the steering wheel, and let it slide towards the waters. But it still didn't explain the victim's absence.

"Maybe he got up and left?" Hank replies after hearing the detective's conclusion.

"And where would he have gone? By the looks of this vehicle the impact must've taken a toll on Evan," Helms challenges.

Hank widens his eyes in frustration. "I don't know, maybe a hospital?" he almost adds a condescending "duh".

"We've already checked every hospital in Long Island and New York. That includes all the closest hospitals he could've reached given the account of injuries he most likely sustained during the accident."

"Then where the hell is he?!" Hank yells, grabbing the attention of everyone else within the vicinity. This is all too much. He didn't ask for this. He didn't ask to play detective for his little brother. Hank never even put effort into playing Cops and Robbers Evan used to always drag him into. Only this time, it isn't a game. It's real. Too real for Hank's liking.

Helms pulls Hank to a quieter corner. "Okay, take a deep breath."

Hank blinks back the emotions fighting their way through and sighs. This isn't the time to lose it. Evan is counting on him. Hank looks back at Helms for the next step.

"My team and I will put our utmost effort into figuring out what took place that night and finding your brother. Just like how you put your utmost effort into diagnosing my sister. I promise you, Hank, I'll do my best."

Hank tries to smile in gratitude, but fails to fully come out at the dangerous thought of '_What if that isn't enough?_'

"Detective!" a police officer calls out amongst the crowd. Helms and Hank turn towards the voice. "You might want to come take a look at this."

The medical practitioner and the detective both follow the officer through the trees, until they land on a particularly tree marred with scratches. Hank and Helms survey the area and conclude equally that this is where the car incident took place. Helms replays a version of that night in his head, flashes of the accident encompassing his mind, unbeknownst to Hank doing the same thing.

Their eyes continue to circle the surrounding area, immediately taking notice of pieces of glass scattered on the grounds.

They both can see it now…Evan skidding down the road, allowing the vehicle to bend downwards…him losing control of the car…it picks up speed…before he could register what was happening, he hits a tree in his path…the brutal impact to the car and to the driver.

The same mystifying questions remain in everyone's mind – how did the car get into the river? Where is the victim?

Hank suddenly freezes, his thoughts halting in their path to answers, at a very familiar sight. Despite over the years, countering this sight more times than he could count, this is the first time it caught him by utter fear. Because he's pretty sure, that the smudge of crimson-coloured blood streaking the forest floor, belongs to his brother.

* * *

**TBC**

* * *

This probably raises more questions about what took place on the night Evan disappeared, but fear not! All will be answered eventually, if you stay tuned.

Till next time, m'lovelies!

Mrs-N-Uzumaki xx


	4. MESSAGE

Sorry to disappoint some people but this is not an update. I'll delete this little message soon. So to those awesome readers, please don't review.

This is to counter the flames I've been getting.

Guys, I asked to be brutally honest about my STORY, I repeat, MY STORY, NOT ABOUT THE WAY I APPROACH REVIEWS. All the hate I've been reading seem to be about, apparently, how "whiny" I am about them. Well, I'm sorry if the only feedback I'll ever get for my stories is through this website. If you knew me at all, which you DON'T, I'm always hard on myself, especially about the way I write. I'm never good enough which is WHY I ask for people to tell me why they enjoy my stories. The only reason I've improved over the years is by the feedback left about how I deal with my approach to characters or storylines. NOT REVIEWS.

Again, I'd appreciate it if you didn't leave such remarks about the way I am because you don't know me. Or how old I am. I've been through hell and back and this website is my only haven. Don't ruin that for me with your WHINY remarks about how I ask my readers to review. Write and bitch all you want about my storyline, or my characterisation, but not the depressed, wanting solace, writer whom you DO NOT KNOW.

Otherwise, please just leave. I can't take another disrespectful comment.

P.S. I know you know your comments are impolite based on the fact that you didn't log in to be reported. I'm up for a friendly discussion, so you don't have to be so rude. Then again, I AM talking to flamers. There's no reasoning with them.


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